The Little Dog has gotten paranoid in the night. I have insomnia. You would think that would be a perfect match – me, catering to the dog’s paranoia while I am wandering around the house at 2am, eating cottage cheese and Sun Chips.
I have had elderly relatives display this same kind of fleeting paranoia for no reason, repeatedly asking me the location of their purse (on her arm) or where their spouse is (dead). The Little Dog looks like she is fearful we are lost, and maybe we are here in Pacifica. Maybe she remembers Oakland. She looks worried as if the Big Guy has disappeared so I take her to his big snoring self, splayed out in the bed with the covers over his head. Then, she thinks she’s perhaps hungry. After a few paltry bites of kibble, she wants to go outside and bark at the apples on the tree. She doesn’t bark much any more but when she does she gives it everything she’s got. She sounds like an alarm in the middle of the night, barking so hard her front legs come off the ground. I chase after her to quiet her down, and she runs lickity split back in the house like it’s all a game. Maybe it is.
Vista de Nada 
Interesting post. I had to read it twice, but enjoyed it both times. Yeah, it does sound like a game.
I wish it were a game but I suspect it is old age dementia. She seems better right now, but she’s asleep.
I remember years ago when I was a child and my great aunt and uncle lived with us. They were like the little dog, with their days and nights turned around. The rest of the family would go to bed and those 2 old people would prowl through the house doing odd things. The final straw, for my Mom, was when my great uncle pissed down a heater vent. He must have pissed like a horse because it went all the way to the main shaft. The rest of us smelled piss for weeks that winter every time our oil heater cut on. Mom took them both to a nursing home shortly thereafter. I guess that was all she could take. This was after they had blocked up the septic tank a few times flushing odd things like cantaloupe and bananas down the toilet. Mom would try to make them eat that rather than their preferred vanilla ice cream for every meal. She thought (briefly) she could cure their senility with fruit and veggies. They just toted their plates back to their side of the house and flushed the fruits and veggies. Then, they presented their clean plates to Mom for their reward – dessert – which was vanilla ice cream – of course.
My great aunt was the one who kept asking me where her purse was. It was right on her arm. Then after my great uncle died, she kept asking me where he was. I finally had enough one day and told her that her dead husband was in the kitchen. That stopped the asking for the rest of the day, which falls into the same category as the little dog. I often wondered about the senility vs. just jerking some willing putz around.
Wow, that was an interesting story. Tough on folks I’m sure and not funny at the time, but when you look back at the things that happened it makes one wonder. Will we all end up like that some day?
It does make ya wonder.
I liked my great uncle a hell of a lot better than my folks so I thought it was funny at the time when he pissed down the heater vent. Not so funny when Mom packed them off to a nursing home.
Oh poor little dog! Poor you! What a nightmare. Although maybe she’s right. Are you sure the apples on that tree aren’t actually space aliens here to take over our minds?
Unfortunately, I know the raccoons have been in the trees eating the apples. I don’t know if she senses that, but she certainly doesn’t see them. I’m standing out there with her when she lapses into the bark-a-thon, and they’re aren’t any raccoons at that point. There’s just a lot of chewed apples lying on the ground. If it’s not the caterpillars after them, it’s the raccoons.
She can smell those raccoons. She’s a smart dog.
She’s definitely smarter than me.
Hummm, K-9 dementia, I can see it, it must be difficult after a lifetime living with a hyper sense of smell, sight, and hearing then all of a sudden things are scentless, blurry, and noiseless that could be a bit disconcerting for Little Dog. Hell! It bothers the hell out of ME and I probably never smelled, saw, or heard anywhere near as good as Little Dog. As for my memory, I am becoming a creature of habit because if I don’t put things down in a regular place they become lost almost immediately. Significant Other and I spend more time looking for stuff we had just a minute ago. I also can’t remember what I was going to get by the time I get there, it is serious stuff this getting old business – not for the faint of heart I’m telling you.
Well, the vet thinks it was an anxiety attack. Poor dear. She’s old and we wandered off for most of the day. Mostly, I’m just around here. Just to be safe, we are having some blood work done, and the Big Guy is going to try to collect some urine. I wish him luck 10 pound dog and low to the ground.